Dr. Evil's
Volcano Lair & World Headquarters

Three stars. I wanted sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads. What did I get? Ill-tempered sea bass. ILL-TEMPERED SEA BASS. I am a SUPERVILLAIN. I asked for ONE thing. One. Sharks. With lasers. And Number Two tells me the budget doesn't allow for sharks. The budget for my EVIL LAIR doesn't allow for SHARKS. We have a VOLCANO. We can afford a volcano but not sharks?

The conference room is acceptable. Globe-shaped. Dramatic lighting. The chairs descend into a fire pit when I press the button, which is both a management tool and a liability issue that my attorney, who I also dropped into the fire pit, strongly objected to. The revolving chair is excellent. I can spin in it while delivering monologues. It adds gravitas.

Mini-Me is touching everything. EVERYTHING. He touched the laser. He touched the self-destruct button. He touched Mr. Bigglesworth and now Mr. Bigglesworth is hairless and emotionally traumatized. I love Mini-Me but he has the impulse control of a caffeinated squirrel and he is one-eighth my size, which means he can fit into places that should be restricted access.

The magma pit in the center of the lair is dramatic but impractical. I have lost four interns to the magma pit this quarter alone. HR says I need guardrails. I said guardrails are not "evil." HR said neither is paying out wrongful death settlements. I fired HR. Into the magma pit.

Three stars. Would be five but the sea bass are genuinely useless. One of them bit a hostage and the hostage didn't even notice. I am embarrassed for the sea bass and for myself.

Two stars. While Dr. Evil was frozen for thirty years, I turned this organization into a legitimate multi-billion dollar corporation. Starbucks. Blockbuster. Real businesses. Real revenue. Then he comes back and says he wants to hold the world ransom for ONE MILLION DOLLARS. One million. In 1997. I tried to explain inflation. He put his pinky to his mouth and said "one MILLION dollars" like it was impressive. It is not impressive. We made more than that last Tuesday.

The lair itself is fine from an operational standpoint. The HVAC system works surprisingly well for a volcano. But the revolving chairs are a Workers' Comp nightmare, the fire pit has no guard rail (see: Dr. Evil's response to HR), and the parking lot is inside an active geological formation. My insurance premiums are astronomical.

One star. Why don't we just SHOOT Austin Powers? I've said this forty times. Just shoot him. Don't put him in an elaborate death trap. Don't monologue at him. Don't leave the room assuming the overly complicated laser will work. JUST SHOOT HIM. But no. My dad has to do the whole "let me explain my entire plan while you escape" thing EVERY TIME.

The lair is fine. I guess. If you're into volcanoes and evil chairs and bald cats and tiny clones of your dad who keep eating your food. I just want to live in a normal house. With normal furniture. And a dad who doesn't drop people into magma pits during staff meetings. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes. One star.

*bites review button* *presses all five stars* *knocks over the sea bass tank* *sits on Mr. Bigglesworth* *presses self-destruct button* *is carried away by Number Two*

Five stars.